


The Light within the Dark

by MakingMagicalGirls



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Adventure, Eventual Romance, Eventually I mean, Fantasy, Following my characters Ceres through MSQ, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Spoilers, monk - Freeform, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakingMagicalGirls/pseuds/MakingMagicalGirls
Summary: Following the journey of the Warrior of Light Ceres Valor, and her companions as they work their way through Eorzea, fighting primals, garleans, ending wars, and liberating countries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A brief recollection of the past, and even briefer moment in the present.

_“Hear… Feel… Think…”_

 

* * *

The first morning rays of the sun drifted through the open window, along with the warm and dusty Ala Mhigan breeze. Outside there was the steady thump of an approaching chocobo, and in the distance there was the familiar cries of the other birds already beginning their long arduous days on the fields. The sunlight that had drifted through was temporarily blocked by a shadow, it moved to one side and then another side almost inquisitively.

**“Kweh!”**

A white feathered bird had poked its head through the window, it’s beak opening to tug at strands of dusty blonde hair. Though Gyshall greens was its favored food, hay was a fine substitute and the hair of the sleeping child looked hay-like. A sharp tug and another resounding **“Kweh!!!”** Had the child jolting upright, arms flailing in an attempt to pull her hair away out of the chocobos beak. 

**“Pearl! Ugh- gross choco drool!”**

She flicked her hand away from her head, nose scrunched up in distaste at the saliva stuck to her fingers. The large bird merely chirped at her, not guilty in the slightest. With her clean hand she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, the bird carefully preening the crown of her head. **“Pearl-”** She stifled a laugh, pulling away from her bed and in turn away from the window. Once more the bird chirped, rearing back and flapping its wings. The young girl staggered as she finally stood, a wave of dizziness coming and passing as quickly as a gust of wind. Her hand once more went to her head, noticing a steady pounding ache behind her eyes- no it was only one eye. Yet it too disappeared much like her recollections of her dream.

_“I feel as though I dreamt of something important. Yet I cannot recall of what.”_

Another sharp chirp from Pearl and the smell of breakfast cooking stirred the girl from her musings. **“Oh! I had nearly forgotten!”** She kicked into high gear, shedding her night clothes for the hempen shirt her mother had made her, as well as a pair of matching shorts. Sandals were laced up as quickly as her fingers would allow, and she had nearly bolted out the door of her room until a particularly loud **“KWEH!”** Had her rushing towards the window, quickly snagging a savory fruit from her nightstand. **“Hush now Pearl! We don’t want mother storming in here!”** Scolded the child, offering the fruit to the chocobo. It gobbled it up without any hesitation, one bite, two bites, and a large resounding gulp. **“Good girl.”** A tender kiss was placed upon the chocobo’s beak, it’s head feathers were affectionately ruffled before at last the girl leapt away from the window, to her bedroom door, and through her home. 

She would have bolted straight out the front door but the scent of breakfast, and more importantly sweet rolls had snagged her attention. With all the stealth she could muster the girl crept past the kitchen, eyes trained mostly on the plate of still warm freshly baked rolls on the counter. Carefully the girl plucked a roll from the player, her head just barely peeking over the counter to spy upon her mother busy at the stove, apron dusted with a fine coat of flour, skin flushed and sweaty for the heat of the stove made the kitchen stifling and the air outside was not much better. Her dusty blonde hair was piled high atop her head, a few strands already escaping their confines. Glancing between her mother and the sweet rolls once more, the girl dared to steal one more- 

**“ _Ceres Valor_ , just where do you think you’re running off to?”**

Her mother’s voice was sharp and fierce, it’s tone not usually so harsh but today was a special day. Her mother had been on edge as of late, arguing with her father near constantly. _“Likely because of today. She’s always like this when it’s this day.”_ And to some extent Ceres understood why, yet it was also an exciting time. With both rolls in hand the girl had dashed quickly out of the room and out of the house before her mother could so much as turn around. One roll was hastily stuffed into her mouth, devouring the sweet bread in a quick manner that had rivaled the family chocobo. She dashed for a short way, glancing back towards her small home, half afraid that she’d spot her mother glaring from the doorway. Today was not one of the days her mother gave chase. Her gaze turned forward just towards the edge of their property, the sun near blinding but not enough that she couldn’t spot a familiar figure. 

A single tree stood proud on the border of their land, its trunk thin and its branches even thinner. It provided little shade at best for its leaves were small and few. Beneath that tree was a large rock, and upon that rock rested a man. Ceres ventured closer, walking as softly as possible so as not to disturb the man. His back was to her, shoulders broad and impossibly strong looking. He sat cross legged, breathing even, and seemingly unaware of her presence. Carefully, she clambered up the rock, which truthfully was more of a bolder than a rock. Her eyes never left the man, memorizing and marvelling over his profile with awe and adoration. His jaw was strong and covered with a stubble that she knew to be as scratchy as it looked, and his hair atop his head was dark and unruly. Eyes were closed and brow knit in concentration- making the three jagged scars across his brow more prominent. Her mother looked at them with distaste and for a time Ceres had feared them but now they were fascinating. They were proof that of his strength and power, that his stories were more than just stories. Hesitantly her hand reached out to touch- 

**“Little Coeurl you shouldn’t trouble your mother like so.”**

As quick as a viper his hand caught hers, grip warm and strong, but not nearly as warm as his gaze and smile, **“But Father!”** Her cheeks were puffed out in indignation. **“I just wanted to meditate with you!”** Her extra sweet roll was offered as a bargain, **“Please?”**

**“And you are doing a poor job of meditating.”** He ruffled the hair atop her head, and snatched the sweet roll from her hand grinning at her while he ate it. **“Remember little coeurl, relax, and breathe.”** She followed his instructions, also grinning for it wasn’t the first time he had told her them but she enjoyed listening to him speak all the same. **“Feel how your body moves with each breath, focus on that feeling.”** She did, her eyes were closed and even her smile had relaxed. Breathing was soft and controlled, feeling every inhalation and exhalation. **“Now free your mind.”** Even her father's voice, it’s deep and warm rumble had become distant. 

_Inhale_. The air filled her lungs. _Exhale_. It joined with the dusty breeze that ruffled through her hair, and whispered sweet nothings in her ear like _“Hear. Feel. Think.”_ It soon passed, the breeze carrying its soft words away, but they still lingered with her. _Hear_. There was still the distant cries of chocobos, of the rustle of the dry grasses, and of other families beginning their days. _Feel_. There was still the occasional dry breeze, through the flitting leaves of the nearby tree there was the warm almost hot rays of the sun, but there was more. There was a deeper connection, that everything from the people to even the grasses and the breeze they all went hand in hand that they were connected by…. By something. It was on the top of her tongue, in her heart, and in her very soul. Yet her mind could not quite _think_ of what it was. 

Without realizing it Ceres had opened her eyes, her head throbbing. The ache continued for much longer than it had earlier, but she did not voice her discomfort. There was no sense in disturbing her fathers meditation a second time. Instead she found herself staring again, eyes tracing over his features, and of the three scars scar across his face. They started from his forehead and went to his jaw bone, some their lengths uneven. The scars cut deep into his flesh, and were jagged. It was not wound born from a sword or lance but from:

_“A coeurl.” His fingers touched the marks carefully, Ceres sitting on his knee while his other hand kept her steady, “I was a young and foolish Monk eager to prove his worth, his strength to my brothers and sisters. So I went to the Temple of the Fist.” And how grand the temple sounded. Made of stone and resting up high in the sky, where one can nearly touch the great statue of Rhalgr. There was vast pools of water and greenery, stone statues that could move and assisted the Monks in training- and of course, “Two large Couerls. They are large fearsome felines, and these two especially so. Bigger than the average Couerl and-” Apparently Coeurls had whiskers, long whiskers, longer than a man and thicker than a man’s arm that were charged with electricity. These Coeurls were no exception. At that time he didn’t know this and had been stunned by the electricity. Had other Monks not intervened he wouldn’t have survived the encounter. She listened to his story in awe, the scars were still frightening to look at but their story was thrilling._

**“Little Couerl you are a terrible meditator!”**

Hands that were capable of splitting wood in two, gently flicked at her forehead startling her from her daydreams. **“Ow!”** She said out of instinct despite it not hurting, the ache in her head had disappeared again and the words that had hung heavy on her soul slipped her mind. **“I don’t have to be a good mediator to become a Monk like you!”** She huffed, cheeks puffing out once more. 

**“A good Monk is _always_ good at meditation.”**

He stated as he slid off of the the bolder, picking up the small sack at its base. It was slung across his shoulder as he extended his arms towards her. With a grin she leapt from the stone and into his arms, knowing he would catch her, and he did. She laughed arms looping about his neck, legs swinging out behind her because he began to spin with her still in his arms. He spun and spun until they both were dizzy, and she had to be set down. For a moment she was unsteady on her feet, but a hand on her shoulder helped steady her. His hand left hers, gaze directed towards the distance. 

**“Must you leave father? Mother is terribly upset.”** _Mother was always upset when he left, this time more so though Ceres could not discern why._ **“You could stay and teach me! To be a Monk like you! To even get good meditation.”** She preferred when he was home, but when he returned he’d always have the most wonderful stories. That’s what she told herself, it made the time he was away seem more bearable and not as long. It was his job, he had to go back to the temple with his brother and sisters because the King bid him to. Perhaps this time he’d meet the Ala Mhigan King himself, that would be a story Ceres would love to hear.

**“You won’t be a Monk like me, You’ll be an even better Monk than me.”** He knelt before her again, **“Provided that your Mother doesn’t kill you and I both.”** Her mother was not fond of Monkhood, of him constantly away, and especially not fond of his filling Ceres head with dreams of being a Monk. **“When I come back I shall teach you, but in the meantime you listen to your Mother and you listen well. She may be stern but it is out of love for you and I both.”** He rustled her hair once more, **“When you finish helping your mother, you train and you train hard so when I come back you can show me your improvements.”** He seemed thoughtful, smile perhaps a little sad as he reached out to brush his thumb against her cheek catching a stray tear, **“I wonder….”** Yet he did not finish as he stood to his full height, which was quite imposing given that he was a highlander. He whistled sharp and clear, and there was the familiar cry of Pearl and the steady thump of her approach.

With well practiced ease he slid onto the bird, taking a moment to fix his travel gear into place. A sort of strange unease filled her belly, a quiet whisper of her dream that she couldn’t quite remember. The one that felt so real. **“Father!”** She rushed up to the chocobo, **“I love you.”** It felt as if she must say it, and she meant it. **“I _love_ you and I’ll see you when you get home. I’ll wait and I'll train.”** Her heart felt heavy, and this time her father's hand reached down not to muse her already messy locks but to gently pat. He didn’t proclaim his love back, but love was not always something that needed to be said to be present. A smile and a gentle hand was all the confirmation she needed as he took off. 

His Chocobo kicked up dirt, and for a moment Ceres had to cover her eyes to shield herself, and still the weight on her chest had not yet disappeared. Before she could think she scrambled after the bird, little feet carrying her as fast as they could, **“Father!”** She shouted as she ran, trying to keep up with his chocobo, **“One day! One day I’ll clear the Temple of the Fist for you!”** She was panting, running still but the chocobo was getting ahead, and for a moment his eyes had met hers. 

**“I look forward to being there to see that day my Little Coeurl!”**

 

* * *

_“Hear. Feel. Think.”_

Her head it hurt, though not because Hydaelyn’s voice rang through it. No, it still had the dull throb from when the Amalj’aa had knocked her out. Yet the source of the pain was not completely a physical one. All around her was fire and flame, the air was thick with the scent of smoke making every gasp for breath burn. Sweat pooled on her brow, and a shaky hand went to wipe it away. Distantly she heard Thancred’s voice through the linkpearl. A voice of reason and warning that she ignored. Before her stood hell incarnate, flesh made of fire and rage, summoned by his children’s prayers, a horde of crystals, and a proper sacrifice. 

_Ifrit_

Her mind told her that she was insane. She should run. That surely she would be tempered. She would die. Despite how her mind screamed at her….. Her body it would not move, nor did her heart seem to be in agreement with her head. Her soul on the other hand- 

_Inhale_. Fists were raised as she took up her stance, boots digging into the dirt. _Exhale_. There was too much that she had to live for to die today. _Inhale_. Ifrits will she could feel all around her, not just in the fire and smoke but it was a strange sort of crushing presence. It felt as if he was burning around the corner of her eyes, his rage threatening to take hold of her mind, and to corrupt her very heart and soul. _Exhale_. She should be afraid, she should run, she really should. _Inhale_. Only her body had never felt more calm, a quiet feeling in her innermost depths relaxing her, a higher power than even Ifrit was watching over her. 

_Exhale_

_Ceres Valor was made to fight this_


	2. Uncertainties and Certainties

_“The Echo. Warrior of Light.”_

It was hard to wrap her head around such a lofty title, let alone believe that such things could ever apply to her. _“You fought a God and won.”_ She reminded herself, and though it had happened only a few days before it already felt distant. Ceres might have thought it a daydream if not for the adrenaline that still seemed to be coursing through her veins, and the ache in her palms. Just thinking about it made her squeeze her hands into fists, looking down at them sullenly. When Thancred had plucked her out of the bowl of embers her hands were blistered from the heat of Ifrit. A couple cures and a few nights of soaking them in potions had whipped her fists back into fighting shape. Yet the ache, no, the _burning_ sensation had not yet disappeared. Nor would the weight of what she had done or what had happened to those people would ever disappear. Despite defeating ifrit, no one, not Ceres, nor the other sacrifices walked out of the Bowl of Embers the same. 

_Thralls_

They had succumbed to Ifrit’s will, and were nothing more now than pawns. Playthings that were only good for summoning him now. People that had life’s, families even, and now they were mindless worshipers. The only cure for them now was a swift and painless death. One that she had watched with a heavy heart, and a question that burned her more than Ifrit himself- 

_“Why not me? Why did I not succumb as they had. Why did I not share their fate?”_

Minfillia and Thancred had tried to explain why or at least how. The Echo was a curious thing and even now she didn’t quite understand it. Perhaps even a part of her did not yet _believe_ in the echo. The visions and the voices had plagued her since she was young, and had only grown worse since the calamity. They were nothing more than visions and voices that sometimes might have been things that happened. Even if she could see into the past how did that warrant her resistance to a _primal_ and how did she _deserve_ such an ability? What could she do with it? What should she even do? There were so many more qualified, any of the scions really- 

**“What’s the long face for? Still thinking how I won that last sparring match?”**

Yda’s chipper voice had snapped Ceres out of her thoughts, as well as the rough smack against her back. Though the mask covered Yda’s eyes, her smile was warm, and the hand now ruffling her hair even warmer. **“Please!”** Ceres offered a smile in return swatting Yda’s hand away, **“I fear I’ll never hold a candle to you in terms of hand to hand. You put me to shame as a pugilist!”** All her training at the pugilist guild did little to aid her in her sparring matches against Yda. The other woman was simply too quick and too strong, and Ceres had only managed to land a few strikes on her. 

**“Pugilist?”** Yda cocked her head to the side, **“I believe you mean Monk. Thancred told me you got a soul crystal. Well let’s see it!”** She leaned forward, still grinning. 

What little ease Yda had brought her had dissipated at the mention of the little crystal that she kept in her pocket. Not wanting to disappoint she brought out the crystal for Yda to inspect. It was warm to the touch, the yellow crystal reminding her of a dusty desert and days that had long since passed. **“Crystal or no I don’t feel like a Monk. Not yet at least.”** She tried not to look at it, especially not at the three lines across it that were supposed to be the mark of a monk. Three straight lines, a simplistic broken down version of a fist but to it only made her think of a coeurl, and the marks their claws made in one's flesh. **“There is much for me to do and learn before I become a true Monk.”** The crystal was squeezed tightly in her palm, and soon tucked away back into her pocket. 

**“Quite a ways to go before you’re a real Monk huh? I suppose your first step is beating me then!”** Yda offered a grin, throwing a few mock jabs at Ceres who danced away from her. Her reaction time compared to when they had first met had already tremendously approved. Yda had helped train and of course spar against the most recent Scion many times. Their matches enjoyable, one-sided as they might have been. However, they hadn't had the time as of late to get into a good scuffle together. They hadn't fought since Ceres returned, and for good reason. 

**“Yda please!”** Ceres smile had returned,albeit strained, **“Perhaps when I’m fully recovered I’ll be able to land a few good hits on you, maybe even I’ll beat you one day. Wouldn’t that be a sight?”** Perhaps not as much of a spectacle as defeating Ifri- the thought was shook from her head quickly, but her smile waivered nonetheless. **“Or maybe not. Who can say what the outcome of our next match might be, or when it might be for that matter we have much on ours plates as Scions-”**

**“Are you two done with your dawdling? Need I remind you both we’re in the middle of an investigation?”**

Papalymo huffed, pushing through both the Hyurs, despite being less than half their size. An apology was quickly muttered by Ceres, following after the lalafells surprisingly quick stride. For the briefest of moments Yda was still as she watched the pair. A part of her burning this image into her memory for after this investigation it was hard to say when they’d next be together. The life of a scion was never consistent, and with Ceres thrown into the mix it seemed things had gotten even more hectic. Nothing was ever certain, where they’d be tomorrow or the day after, whether they’d live, or- 

**“Yda you scatter brain! Are you coming?”**

**“Yeah c’mon Yda. I’ll race you! I might not beat you in a spar but I bet I can outrun you!”**

**“Ceres! Don’t encourage her!”**

If there were only a few things Yda was certain of; It was that Ceres had challenged her to a race where Ceres herself was at a disadvantage despite the head start. She was also certain that Papalymo would scold them both for being immature once they were both winded from their impromptu marathon. She was certain that her and Ceres would be laughing at Papalymo’s crossed arms and agitated expression, and- 

_“I am certain I know the outcome of the next time we spar, whenever that may be.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a really short chapter so I apologize! It was originally supposed to be longer but I decided to break up this chapter and the following to make it more smooth. As usual kudos and such are amazing, but comments are the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! I hope to really start getting into the brunt of the story, and work my way to SB!


End file.
